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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28679439">Here Comes Your Man</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/peregrineMendicant/pseuds/peregrineMendicant'>peregrineMendicant</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Double Date, F/M, Fluff, Gerry's an idiot, Getting Together, M/M, Michael's also an idiot but in a more endearing way, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Sasha's got plans, Vampires</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:15:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,786</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28679439</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/peregrineMendicant/pseuds/peregrineMendicant</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerry stops by the Institute most Mondays -- to talk to Gertrude and debrief his assignments, yes, but also because Mondays are when the food left in the breakroom fridge over the weekend becomes fair game. This Monday, though, the fridge is disappointingly empty. Other than a bunch of moldy grapes in one of the produce drawers and an open, flat can of coke, the only thing in there is half a deli sandwich made with what looks like ham. Gerry picks it up and lifts up the top slice of bread, inspecting the meat for mold.</p>
<p>“Hey,” says a voice from the door. Gerry jumps. “Is that, uh. Are you taking apart my sandwich?”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley, Sasha James/Tim Stoker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>74</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Here Comes Your Man</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_poetic_galaxy/gifts">a_poetic_galaxy</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Gift for Leo for a winter exchange!! Featuring GerryMichael and TimSasha in an alternate timeline where 1) they all work together and 2) the Institute is slightly less shitty and employees get to (sort of) know what's going on. In which Gerry and Michael are both stupidly oblivious and Tim and Sasha have romance superpowers :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gerry stops by the Institute most Mondays -- to talk to Gertrude and debrief his assignments, yes, but also because Mondays are when the food left in the breakroom fridge over the weekend becomes fair game. There’s usually some of Martin’s leftovers hanging out on the lower shelves, and sometimes he can even find the remains of an office birthday party cake. Gerry’s been in a shitty long-term stay motel ever since getting back from Brussels a few weeks ago. It’s not that bad, as those kinds of places go, but the kitchen facilities leave a lot to be desired. He’s ended up eating a lot of Chinese takeout. Hence the fridge raiding.</p>
<p>This particular Monday he does actually have something to bring to Gertrude. It’s an old library ledger containing the last known check-out date of a book they’ve been on the hunt for for quite a while. He asks Gertrude to cross-reference the name of the lender with anything they might have in their files, and she nods and says she’ll put Sasha on it. Satisfied, Gerry leaves her office and heads down the hall to the breakroom.</p>
<p>The fridge is disappointingly empty. Other than a bunch of moldy grapes in one of the produce drawers and an open, flat can of coke, the only thing in there is half a deli sandwich made with what looks like ham. Gerry picks it up and lifts up the top slice of bread, inspecting the meat for mold.</p>
<p>“Hey,” says a voice from the door. Gerry jumps. “Is that, uh. Are you taking apart my sandwich?”</p>
<p>Gerry turns around guiltily. He’s been caught in the act many times, mostly by Tim and Martin, who don’t seem to mind all that much. Martin offers to make him food more often than not. Tim just teases him about not having his own kitchen. But this time when he turns, he sees an unfamiliar face. The man in the door is tall, and blond, and wearing a bright purple <i>turtleneck</i> of all things. His hair is curly and long and pulled up into a messy bun. He’s unreasonably cute. And Gerry’s in the middle of the breakroom, peeling the top layer off of his sandwich like a creep. He puts the sandwich back in the fridge quickly and steps back to close the door. </p>
<p>“Uh,” he says. “Yes? Sorry.”</p>
<p>“Are -- do you work here?” asks the man. He looks more confused than alarmed, which is good, because the last thing Gerry wants to do is send some poor new hire rushing off in a panic thinking a stranger has broken in.</p>
<p>“Not technically,” says Gerry. “I mean, I’m friends with Gertrude. I do work for her. But I don’t work here.”</p>
<p>“Right. Okay. And why are you. Uh. In our fridge?” </p>
<p>Gerry winces a little, involuntarily. “Sorry. Seriously, I’m really sorry. I just, like, come in and take leftovers sometimes. Not in a weird way. I didn’t know the sandwich was yours. I thought someone might have forgotten it last Friday, or something. You know.”</p>
<p>The guy in the doorway blinks. “I-I mean, not really? But if you need the food, you can take it.”</p>
<p>“Oh!” says Gerry. “Oh, no, I won’t take your sandwich. I don’t <i>need</i> it need it.” God, he sounds stupid.</p>
<p>The man looks unconvinced. “Are you sure?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Gerry says. “Yes. Yeah.”</p>
<p>“Alright, if you say so,” he replies.</p>
<p>Gerry nods a little too fast. They stare at each other in silence until it’s slightly uncomfortable. The guy’s got, like, <i>really</i> pretty eyes. They’re a sort of grey-ish green. Striking, but not piercing. His top lip forms a perfect cupid’s bow. “I’m Gerry,” Gerry says, because he isn’t able to stop himself in time. </p>
<p>“I’m Michael,” says the man slowly. </p>
<p>“Cool,” Gerry replies. “Right. Well, I’ll, uh, get going. Enjoy your sandwich.”</p>
<p>He walks past Michael and out the door. He gets close enough to smell what he thinks might be women’s perfume on him. </p>
<p>When he’s a few blocks away from the Institute, he finally lets himself groan out loud. “Way to go with that one, Gerry,” he mutters under his breath. Just his luck, really. If he had run into Michael at a bar, or even under different circumstances at the Institute, he totally would have given him his number. No chance of that now, though. His stomach growls as he walks towards his flat. Gerry sighs, pulls out his cell, and dials the number for Chinese takeaway. </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Sasha’s looking through files in the archive folders, searching for a name that matches the one Gertrude gave her, when the new assistant peeks his head into the doorway and knocks cautiously on the doorframe. </p>
<p>“Hey Michael!” she says, standing up from the filing cabinets and dusting her hands off on her pants. “What’s up?” </p>
<p>“Hey Sasha, sorry, weird question but uh, is there a guy that comes into the archives sometimes with like, big spiky boots? Eyeliner? Really dirty jacket with a bunch of patches on it?”</p>
<p>Sasha giggles. “Oh yeah, that’d be Gerry. Looks spooky, but he’s harmless, really.” </p>
<p>Michael looks a little relieved. “Okay, great. Good to know. I only ask because I caught him, um, going through the breakroom fridge?”</p>
<p>Sasha sighs. “We’ve gotta get him out of that motel.” </p>
<p>Michael looks confused. “Is he -- does he need help? I tried to get him to take my sandwich, but he wouldn’t --”</p>
<p>“Oh, no,” Sasha laughs. “He’s fine. It’s just that he bounces around a lot? He got back from his most recent trip a little while ago and he hasn’t found a new place to live yet. Gertrude sends him running all over.”</p>
<p>Michael nods. “So he’s like an assistant?”</p>
<p>“Sure, but never say that to his face. I mean, he works independently, too. He’s just handy when Gertrude needs someone to do the . . . dirty work?”</p>
<p>Michael’s brow creases slightly, like he’s trying to figure out what sort of archival research could constitute “dirty work.” Sasha forgets sometimes what it’s like to be new. “Don’t worry about it,” she adds hurriedly. “You’ll see what I mean. He’s not going anywhere.”</p>
<p>“Right,” says Michael. “So he’s . . . around a lot then?” </p>
<p>Unless Sasha’s imagining things, she thinks she can see a very light blush coloring Michael’s cheeks and the bridge of his nose. She smiles. “Yeah, he shows up most weeks. I’m sure you’ll see him again soon.”</p>
<p>Michael nods. “Thanks, Sasha.” He turns to leave and then stops at the door like he’s thought better of it. “Are there -- I mean, do you think that, um, is there anything you know of that he likes? To eat, I mean.” </p>
<p>Oh, he’s definitely blushing now. Sasha can see it spreading towards the tips of his ears. She tries not to make her grin too obvious. “He’ll take anything homemade, honestly. I’m sure a nice muffin or something would make his day.”</p>
<p>Michael nods again. “Okay. Yeah, alright. Thanks again!” He gives Sasha a quick smile before ducking back out the door. She lets her grin break out fully once he’s out of sight and shakes her head before turning back towards the filing cabinet. They’d be cute together, she thinks. Maybe a little romance would do Gerry good.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Gerry ends up back at the Institute that Friday after Gertrude leaves him a voicemail. She never tells him <i>why</i> she’s calling, just that he needs to stop by. It’s a little frustrating. But he never keeps her waiting, so he makes a point of going to visit her before the weekend instead of after. She tells him Sasha found a match for the name in the ledger -- some guy who came in to give a statement a few years back and got filed under “disproved” after a quick investigation. She gives him the statement to look over and the address the guy left on file. He takes them both and makes a mental note to thank Sasha next time he sees her. </p>
<p>Gerry briefly considers leaving without stopping by the breakroom, if only to avoid another terribly awkward encounter with the cute guy (<i>Michael</i>, his brain supplies) but he figures the odds of running into him twice in a row are pretty slim. If he does, maybe he can apologize again.</p>
<p>When he peeks his head in, Michael’s nowhere to be seen, but Tim’s standing by the coffee maker fiddling with the buttons and shaking it a little in an attempt to make the heating switch work. He looks up and smiles.</p>
<p>“Heya Gerry! Long time no see. Gertrude put you out on another hunt?”</p>
<p>“Not this time. Been around since I got back from Brussels. Just made myself scarce, a bit. How’ve you been?”</p>
<p>Tim shrugs. “Same old same old, I suppose. Work’s been pretty easy recently, actually.”</p>
<p>“Easy’s nice,” Gerry says absentmindedly as he makes his way towards the fridge. “How’s Sasha?”</p>
<p>Tim gets a sort of dopey grin on his face. “She’s great. Really. Makes this place more than bearable. She even asked me to come home with her this Christmas, actually. Meet the family and all that.”</p>
<p>It’s good to see him so happy, Gerry thinks. “You gonna go?” he asks.</p>
<p>Tim sort of shuffles from one foot to the other. “I mean, I think so. I want to. Just, you know, all very serious. Don’t know how her parents are gonna feel about me. It’s been a while since I’ve had something so . . .”</p>
<p>He trails off and waves his hands in the air in a sort of square-ish shape. Gerry nods. “Official?” he offers.</p>
<p>Tim shrugs. “More or less. I dunno.”</p>
<p>“Listen,” says Gerry. “They’ll love you. I’m sure of it. And hey, if they don’t? It’s not Sasha’s parents you’re dating.”</p>
<p>Tim smiles a little and turns back to the coffee maker. “You’ve got a point.” He presses a few buttons and the machine starts to hiss. “Hey! There we go.”</p>
<p>Gerry opens the fridge and bends over slightly to take a look. Tim chuckles. “Still in that motel?” </p>
<p>Gerry groans. “Don’t remind me.” The fridge is pretty full, but almost all the food is labelled, and Gerry isn’t particularly keen on stealing people’s lunches out from under them. Well, not when there’s someone standing there to watch him do it. He straightens back up and is about to close the fridge door when he sees a bag on the bottom shelf with <i>his</i> name written on it in neat purple Sharpie. He picks it up -- it’s a blueberry muffin, homemade by the looks of it. He blinks.</p>
<p>“Hey Tim, did, uh, did Martin make this, d’you think?” he holds out the muffin for Tim to see. Tim squints and leans closer. </p>
<p>“Huh! Well, probably? That’s sweet though. If it wasn’t him, maybe you have a secret admirer.”</p>
<p>Gerry snorts. “Here? Yeah, right.”</p>
<p>Tim grins. “I can try to figure out who it is, if you want. Work my magic.” He wiggles his fingers with the hand that’s not holding his coffee cup. </p>
<p>Gerry rolls his eyes. “No need for magic. If you do find out, though, tell them thanks for me, would you?” </p>
<p>“Gladly,” says Tim. He takes a big sip of his coffee and raises his eyebrows twice at Gerry over the rim of the mug. </p>
<p>Gerry lets himself smile a bit, but shakes his head and points a finger in Tim’s direction as he pockets the muffin and closes the fridge door. “No magic.”</p>
<p>Tim shrugs. “Your loss.”</p>
<p>Gerry gives one final wave and an exasperated grin as he leaves the breakroom. He walks down the hallway -- a little slower than usual, perhaps, he admits to himself. But the hallways stay empty. No purple turtlenecks in sight. Gerry eats the muffin as he walks towards the subway. It’s good. Whoever made it knew what they were doing. He absentmindedly folds up the wrapper and puts in his pocket, then makes his way to the station.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>They’re laying in bed together when Sasha thinks to bring it up. “You know Michael?” she asks.</p>
<p>“New guy, yeah,” replies Tim from where he’s snuggled against her chest under the covers.</p>
<p>“Think he has a thing for Gerry.”</p>
<p>“What makes you think that?” Tim mumbles sleepily.</p>
<p>“He asked about him after he caught Gerry trying to take his sandwich. Seemed a little flustered about the whole thing.”</p>
<p>Tim snorts. “Sounds like Gerry.”</p>
<p> “I think we should set them up,” she murmurs.</p>
<p>“Who, Gerry and Michael?” Tim asks. “Gerry’s got his whole lone wolf thing going.”</p>
<p>“I think he’s just emotionally blocked,” Sasha says.</p>
<p>“That too. I mean, who wouldn’t be, with all . . . that.” Tim waves his hand around generally to signify evil powers, or abusive mothers, or something. Sasha knows what he means.</p>
<p>“Yeah. That’s why Michael would be good for him, I think. He’s very bubbly.”</p>
<p>“Mhmm. And a total cutie,” Tim muses.</p>
<p>Sasha chuckles. “Not as cute as me though, hmm?”</p>
<p>Tim looks up at her. “No one’s as cute as you. But when you put it like that, yeah, let’s set them up. I can use my romance superpowers.”</p>
<p>Sasha swats him lightly on the head. “Superpowers my arse. It took you three and a half weeks to ask me out.”</p>
<p>“Well, that’s different. You’re special.”</p>
<p>“Special how?” Sasha asks, grinning despite herself.</p>
<p>“Oh, you know. If you turned me down I don’t think my ego could have recovered.”</p>
<p>She rolls her eyes. “I was never gonna turn you down. I’d been waiting for you to ask since my first day.”</p>
<p>“Exactly. That’s what makes you special,” Tim says. He rolls over slightly and props himself up on his elbows so he’s closer to eye level with her. </p>
<p>Sasha leans forward and kisses him gently before pulling back. “Not to mention I don’t think there’s anything that could take your ego down. That thing could move mountains.”</p>
<p>“Mean,” Tim says, pouting, as he leans forward for another kiss. “Take it back.”</p>
<p>“Maybe,” Sasha replies. “If you’re nice.” She grins and they sit in silence for a while, nestled up in each other’s arms. It’s snowing outside -- or it had been when they left the Institute for the day. Sasha can still hear the wind blowing from outside her bedroom window.</p>
<p>“Hey,” she says, after some time has passed. “Have you thought any more about Christmas? My mom wants to know by this week so she can plan stuff out.” </p>
<p>She can feel Tim tense slightly beneath her, and her heart sinks. She tries to stop herself from being annoyed. He’s nervous, is all. Family’s a big step and all that. But it’s not a hard question, and part of her wishes he’d stop treating it like one.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Sash. I can let you know by Friday. Really, I will. There’s just . . .” Tim trails off.</p>
<p>Sasha strokes his hair gently. “Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll call her then. ”</p>
<p>“Thanks.”</p>
<p>The silence settles back over the room, and Sasha lets the distant wind and Tim’s slow breathing lull her to sleep.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Sasha’s working at her desk, transcribing the latest statement, when Gertrude comes up to her with a file. “Gerry’s heading out later today to look into the person you found in those files. I’m sending you out with him.”</p>
<p>“Don’t trust him to go off alone?” Sasha asks. </p>
<p>“Mm, I’m sure he’d be fine. But many hands make light work and all that,” replies Gertrude. “Besides, something tells me this one might be a two-person job.”</p>
<p>It takes Sasha a moment to detect the small note of concern in Gertrude’s voice. She realizes suddenly that she must want him to have company -- not because of any danger, but because the poor guy’s been living alone for almost a month now. As far as Sasha knows, the only social contact he has is when he comes into the Institute. </p>
<p>She’s about to agree when she has an idea. “Actually, sorry Gertrude, but I’ve got a lot of stuff to get through today. You could send Michael with him, maybe? Nice way to introduce him to fieldwork stuff.”</p>
<p>“Ah, yes. I’ll go hunt him down. Good luck with your transcribing,” Gertrude says. She shuffles off towards Michael’s desk, leaving Sasha feeling particularly pleased with herself and only a little bit devious.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Gerry has got to have the worst luck of any person, ever. Gertrude’s waiting for him when he swings by to pick up the file before going on a hunt for the poor soul who was unfortunate enough to check out the Leitner last and, by the looks of it, never return it. But it’s not just Gertrude that’s waiting for him this time. No, standing right beside her in a sunflower-yellow cardigan with two matching bottle cap earrings and fucking <i>bell-bottom</i> jeans is Michael. He’s even prettier than last time Gerry saw him, which is saying a lot. His hair is up in a bun. It looks like he’s wearing blush.</p>
<p>“Gerry, this is Michael. Have you two met?” asks Gertrude.</p>
<p>“Hrg,” says Gerry. “Uh. Yes. We have. Met before, that is. We’ve met.” Michael beams.</p>
<p>“Excellent,” Gertrude says. “I’m sending him with you today. He hasn’t been out for research yet, I trust you can catch him up on this case?”</p>
<p>Gerry responds with a noise that sounds enough like “yeah” for Gertrude to nod, apparently satisfied, and leave the two of them standing alone outside. </p>
<p>“Hey,” he says awkwardly. “Sorry again about everything, the other day. I’m not usually that awkward or, uh, weird.” <i>Except for right now</i>, he thinks. </p>
<p>“It’s fine! You just caught me by surprise, is all,” Michael says.</p>
<p>Well, he doesn’t seem to hate him, at least. “Did you enjoy your sandwich?” Gerry asks. </p>
<p>Michael laughs. “It was fine. You weren’t missing much, though.”</p>
<p>If he’s joking, everything’s probably okay, Gerry figures. The next few hours should at least be bearable.</p>
<p>“So, where are we going?” Michael asks.</p>
<p>“Well, we’re going out to look for a book,” Gerry begins, starting to walk towards the nearest subway station. “Gertrude sends me out for them sometimes. It’s most of what I do, actually. They’re, well, special, sort of. I’m sure she’ll fill you in more at some point. This one’s a little strange. We’ve been on the hunt for it for a while.”</p>
<p>“What is the book? Like, who wrote it?” Michael asks.</p>
<p>Gerry lets out a small laugh. “Well, it’s a little funny, actually. We’re looking for a copy of Dracula.”</p>
<p>“Isn’t that a little cliche?” asks Michael.</p>
<p>“Oh yeah, absolutely. These things tend to be more often than not, though. Sometimes that’s what makes them dangerous.”</p>
<p>“How on Earth could a copy of Dracula actually be <i>dangerous<i>?”</i></i></p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Gerry sighs. “It’s the vampires.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Michael stops dead in his tracks. “Are you trying to tell me that the vampires from Dracula are <i>real</i>?”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“No, no. Not like, the actual vampires from Dracula. Or anything like them, really. It’s just their general . . . vampire-ness that’s the problem. Combined with this book.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Gerry’s making some great first impressions. Really wonderful. Michael’s staring at him like he’s five seconds away from bolting, or maybe bursting out into laughter. “Listen, you don’t have to believe me,” Gerry says. “But really, think about the statements you’ve read so far. I assume you’ve read statements?” Michael nods, so Gerry continues. “Is what I’m saying really more far fetched than what other people bring into the Institute daily? Besides, true or not, you’re still getting paid to wander around and hunt down a copy of a vampire novel. Beats working a desk job, I’d say.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>This gets a chuckle from Michael, although there’s still a slight note of alarm in his eyes. “You’re not wrong. Is this really all you do, then? Hunt down books?”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Gerry winces slightly, because, well, yes -- this is sort of all he does. But put like that it sounds a bit pathetic. He tries to shrug nonchalantly. “Mostly, yeah. Sometimes other stuff. But mostly books.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Does it ever get . . . boring?”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Gerry waves his hand around slightly. “Not with the books I’m looking for. It’s rewarding, really. You’d be surprised.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Michael nods. “That’s sort of cool, then.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Gerry’s not sure if cool is the word he’d use, exactly, but Michael’s not wrong. They make it to the nearby tube station and Gerry leads them down and onto the train. “So, where exactly are we going, again?” Michael asks as the doors close behind them and Gerry grabs onto the handles above them. The train lurches forward with a jerk that sends Michael flying forward. He catches himself just in time to avoid stumbling into Gerry, but Gerry detects a hint of the same perfume Michael had been wearing before when he gets close. It’s not that creepy that he remembers what Michael smells like, he tells himself. It’s not like he’s been thinking about it.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“We’re heading to the address that this guy left behind,” Gerry says. “Based on his statement, he knew something was up with the book before he checked it out. By the time he came into the Institute, he couldn’t get rid of it. It’s been, oh, a few years since then? So we might want to expect the worst.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Michael looks a little worried. “Worst? What do you mean, worst?” he asks. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Gerry carefully considers the least alarming way to phrase the words in his brain. He settles on “You know, general . . . vampirish-ness.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Michael seems to still be significantly alarmed, despite Gerry’s efforts. “It’ll be fine,” says Gerry brightly. “Just follow my lead. Nothing bad should happen.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Should?” Michael murmurs, but the train jerks again to a sudden halt and Gerry grabs his hand to lead him out into the station. They surface in a residential neighborhood, mostly flats, older houses. Gerry double checks the address Gertrude wrote down for him and squints at the house numbers he can see. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“I think it’s this way,” he says, and it’s only when he turns to start in that direction that he realizes he’s still holding Michael’s hand. He moves to pull away from him, but Michael’s gripping him tightly, so he sort of just . . . keeps their hands together as they begin the slow walk down the street. Michael doesn’t seem to mind, which means it’s probably fine.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“This is, um, safe, right?” Michael murmurs as they approach the address. He looks a bit pale.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Hey, yeah. I mean, safe relatively. I won’t -- I’ll try not to let you get hurt. But this shouldn’t be a bad one. Gertrude and I, we know what we’re doing with these things, usually. If it was really dangerous she wouldn’t have sent you.” Gerry thinks that’s true. He hopes it is. “But if you want to head back, I’m totally good to head in on my own. No pressure.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“No -- no, it’s fine. Thank you, though. I -- oh.” Michael looks down to where their hands are joined and pulls his away. “Oh god, sorry! I didn’t realize I was -- sorry.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“It’s fine,” Gerry says softly, cutting him off. “More than.” He can tell Michael’s nervous, jumpier than before. They make the rest of the walk slowly, and Gerry tries to distract him with small talk until finally, they arrive.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>The house is a shabby old thing, with crumbling foundation and sagging window frames. It looks more unkempt than the rest of the houses lining the street, but not so much so that it seems out of place. Michael shivers, and Gerry feels a familiar prickling run up the back of his neck. It’s not fear, not exactly, but some sort of sixth sense, the feeling that they’re being watched.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“What -- what do we do?” whispers Michael. “Like, do we knock, or ring the doorbell, or. . .”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Gerry tries the handle, and to his surprise, the door swings open. He looks at Michael and shrugs. “Guess we just go in.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>They creep through the door and down the entryway quietly. The house is grandly decorated, but Gerry suspects that if he rubbed hard enough the gold on the trimmings and baseboards would flake away. The hall is long, with doors on either side, but he can see that it ends in a large study with a bookcase against the wall. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>He motions towards the study and Michael follows him until they’re both standing on the plush carpet, looking up at the bookcase. It’s not hard to see the book. Its glossy red cover stands out starkly against the dusty grey and brown covers of the other volumes. Unfortunately, it’s also sitting on the top shelf. Gerry pauses for a moment, swallows his pride, and then turns to whisper to Michael. “Hey, could you, uh. Grab the book? I don’t think I can reach.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Michael glances around cautiously like Gerry’s whispers might have alerted someone to their presence. When nothing moves, he nods quietly and stands on his tiptoes, reaching up and tipping the book forward into his hands.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>The moment the book leaves the shelf Gerry feels something shift in the air. It’s a feeling he recognizes, like stumbling over some sort of metaphysical trip wire. Seconds later, a high, inhuman shriek resonates from the second floor of the house. <i>Shit</i>, thinks Gerry. He grabs Michael and starts to bolt for the door. “Come on, come on.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>They run, but the thing comes slamming down the stairs and into the hallway in front of them, blocking the door. It’s tall, covered in black robes, and Gerry finds it’s difficult to make his eyes focus on its actual shape. “<i>Shit</i>,” Gerry says, out loud this time. He reaches into his bag and fumbles around. It stalks towards them, and Michael stumbles backwards, tugging Gerry along with him. Its eyes and teeth and long, dripping tongue are just visible under the hood of its robe. “Gerry,” Michael says from beside him. “<i>Gerry</i>.” It’s so close that Gerry thinks he’d be able to smell its breath, if it was the kind of thing that needed to breathe. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Gerry finally grasps his fingers around the wooden stake in his backpack. He feels a familiar, careful, calm flood his body. He’s done this enough times that it’s almost habit, at this point. The creature lunges forward, tongue lashing out, and in one fluid, practiced motion, Gerry pulls the stake from out of his backpack and plunges it through the thing’s heart.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>It shrieks, and howls, and falls to the floor, and Gerry grabs Michael’s hand again and begins to walk towards the door. Michael’s shaking. “Slowly,” Gerry says. “Just walk.” They make it down the hallway, out the front, and about two blocks away before Michael thrusts the book into Gerry’s hands and starts gasping in long, shuddery breaths.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“What the everloving <i>fuck</i> was that,” he manages between pants.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Gerry wraps the book up carefully and places it in his bag before reaching over to run a comforting hand up and down Michael’s back. “That,” he says in what he hopes is a calming, sympathetic tone, “was fieldwork.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>***</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Two days later, Sasha’s drinking tea with Michael in the breakroom as he recounts the entire tale. “And he just, fucking, <i>stabbed</i> the thing. Like it was nothing. He was so <i>calm</i> the entire time! Jesus Christ, Sasha. Has Gertrude ever sent you out to handle anything like this?”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Once or twice,” she replies. “Not alone, though. Gerry handles most of the weirder stuff.” Michael seems remarkably okay, she thinks. After her first bonafide supernatural encounter she had barely been able to leave her flat for an entire week. “Are you alright, though?” she asks. “I mean, that sounds terrifying.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Yes. Yeah, it was. I’m fine, though. Gerry was, you know, there to protect me. You should have seen it, Sasha! He was just all . . .” Michael starts stabbing the air with his right hand while he waves his left around above him. Sasha giggles despite herself. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Have you thought at all about, I dunno, asking him out?” Sasha asks. Michael chokes on his tea.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“God Sasha, <i>no</i>. He’d never say yes.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Oh, I think you’re underestimating yourself.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“You’re being too nice. He’s all . . . mysterious and cool,” says Michael. Sasha remembers the time she caught Gerry trying to wash his hair in the basement bathroom of the Institute, and raises her eyebrow at Michael. He shrugs. “I mean . . . what I mean is, he wouldn’t be interested in someone like me.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“<i>You’re</i> interested, though,” Sasha says, grinning.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“I mean -- yeah, okay, yeah, sure. But I’d never act on it.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“I think you should reconsider.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Michael ducks his head down to drink his tea. “I’ll think about it,” he replies unconvincingly.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Sasha has an idea, suddenly. “Alright,” she says. “Up to you, really.” She pauses for what she hopes is convincingly long enough before broaching the subject. “Hey, Michael, Tim and I were gonna go out for drinks and dancing this Friday. You should join us.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>He looks pleasantly surprised at the invitation. “Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“You wouldn’t be! We both want to spend the time with you. Maybe we’ll invite some more folks, too.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Sure, then. Sounds fun. Thanks, Sasha! How is Tim, by the way? Coming home with you for Christmas, you mentioned?”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“I thought he was,” Sasha sighs. “He hasn’t made up his mind yet. Which is fine, I guess. Makes me feel a little weird though. Don’t know why he wouldn’t.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Michael nods sympathetically. “Maybe he’s nervous?”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“About what, though? I talk to my parents about him all the time, they’ll love him. I mean, they already <i>do</i>. Hell, he’s even spoken to them over the phone once or twice. It’s not that big of a deal.” Sasha pauses to take another sip of tea. “Anyways. Sorry for dumping on you, Michael. He’ll figure it out.” She glances at her watch. “Ah, shoot. I should get back to work. Wanted to get this transcription down before five. See you on Friday then? We can head out after work.” </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Michael nods, and waves, and Sasha rushes off to tell Tim about her plan.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>***</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Gerry’s pleasantly surprised when Tim calls to ask if he wants to come get drinks with him and Sasha. It’s been a long time since he’s been able to just <i>hang out</i> with people with no ulterior motive, no strange Leitner-hunt in the back of his mind. He thinks maybe they’re asking him to hang out because they’re worried about exactly that. But either way, it’ll be nice. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>The bar’s close to where he’s staying, so he walks down to meet them. He’s dressed up a bit more than usual -- big, chunky platforms and a generous smearing of dark eye makeup. Tim’s standing outside, waiting for him. They exchange pleasantries and head inside. It’s a small bar, cozy, with a nice-sized dance floor. The DJ’s playing some bouncy electronic music that Gerry would never listen to voluntarily, but he doesn’t totally hate it, which is about as good as it gets in these sort of places.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Gerry’s telling Tim about his vampire run-in when he looks over to the table Sasha’s already sitting at and sees Michael next to her, clutching his drink and listening intently to whatever she’s saying. He stops dead. “Tim,” he half-whispers, “you didn’t tell me Michael was going to be here.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Oh, did I not?” Tim responds. “Must have slipped my mind.” He smiles at Gerry and begins to make his way towards the table.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Tim,” Gerry hisses, “Tim, <i>wait</i>.” But he’s already winding his way around the groups of people, and Sasha’s looked up and seen him coming, so Gerry has no choice but to follow. There’s no reason to actually be nervous, he figures. Tim and Sasha probably just invited Michael because he’s new, and they wanted to get to know him better. He should check in with him anyways, after everything that happened with the Leitner. He’d seemed fine by the time they had gotten back to the Institute, but Gerry knows how these things can leave impressions on people. And as always, Michael looks good. Great, even. He’s wearing a cardigan. This will be fine.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Tim goes over and sits down next to Sasha. “Look who I found,” he says, gesturing to Gerry. Michael’s looking up at him with surprise written all over his face. <i>Great</i>, thinks Gerry, <i>he wasn’t expecting me either</i>. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Long time no see, Gerry!” Sasha says. “Michael was telling me about your adventure the other day. Glad you made it out safe.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Yeah,” says Gerry. “Me too.” He looks over at Michael, who seems slightly embarrassed, but doesn’t appear to be too scarred from the experience. “What have you been up to, Sash?”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>She shrugs. “Oh, you know. Same old stuff. Looking forward to getting the holidays off.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Gerry nods. He doesn’t think about the holidays much, really. He never celebrated any of them growing up, and it’s not like he wants to spend them with family. He wonders what he’ll end up doing on New Year’s Eve. Watching bad TV on the shitty motel bed, most likely. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>They catch up for a while, gossiping about their coworkers and Gertrude and the people that come in to give statements. It’s fun. Michael’s quiet at first, but a few drinks in he’s telling them stories about college and his old jobs and laughing at their awful jokes. “What’s the worst job you’ve ever been on?” he asks Gerry a few hours into the night.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Mm. Something in America, probably. Gertrude used to send me there all the time. Oh, I know. Had to get this whole Shakespeare collection from this creepy fucking clown motel in Nevada.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Clown motel?” Tim asks from across the table.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Yeah,” Gerry replies. “Whole place was covered in clown figurines. Right next to a graveyard, too. Wasn’t the worst job I’ve been on, like, danger-wise, but <i>jesus</i> that place scared the shit out of me.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Eurgh,” says Sasha. Michael nods in agreement.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“I’m gonna go get another round of drinks,” Tim says, standing up.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Oh! I’ll come with you,” says Michael. The two of them head off towards the bar. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Sasha leans closer to Gerry and tilts her head towards the two of them. “What do you think of Michael?” she asks.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Gerry blinks. “I mean, he’s nice, I’m glad he started at the institute, I -- “</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“No,” Sasha interrupts, rolling her eyes, “what do you <i>think</i> of Michael. He’s totally into you.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Gerry scoffs. “C’mon Sasha, he met me while I was trying to steal his lunch and then the next time he saw me I led him right into a vampire’s house. He’s not into me. I’m lucky he even wants to be around me.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“He hasn’t shut up about you this whole week. He baked you a <i>muffin</i>, for chrissakes,” Sasha says.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Gerry blinks. “<i>He</i> baked that? I thought it was Martin this whole time!”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Sasha groans and puts her head in her hands. “You’re both so goddamn <i>oblivious</i>. ‘He wouldn’t be into me because of this, he doesn’t like me because of that.’ Michael said the exact same thing.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“You talked to him about me?” asks Gerry.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Yes, and he’s <i>into you</i>. Which is what I’ve been trying to tell you this whole time.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Gerry feels something warm blooming in his chest. He looks over to the bar, where he can just see Michael and Tim over the crowd of people. Michael’s laughing, and his face is lit up in this way that makes Gerry’s stomach swoop, a little bit. He pushes his chair back from the table. “I’ll be right back, Sasha,” he says hurriedly, and he rushes over to the bar. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>When he gets there, Tim’s talking -- something about Sasha, he thinks. He taps Michael on the shoulder. “Hey,” he says, “sorry to cut in, but um, could I talk to you? Somewhere private maybe?” He gestures towards an unoccupied corner of the dance floor. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Oh! Oh sure, but I was just chatting with Tim about --” Michael turns, but Tim has already started walking back towards their table with their drinks. He winks at them both. “Nevermind, I guess,” Michael continues. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Gerry half-pulls Michael towards the corner. When they get there, he turns to face him. “So, I’ve come to the realization that I may be an idiot. I was talking to Sasha,” Gerry begins, but Michael cuts him off before he can go any further.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Oh god,” he says. “I’m sorry, I should have said. I think she invited you here because she’s trying to set us up, which is, um, totally my fault. I was talking to her, and she maybe, uh, got the idea in her head because of something I said?”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Gerry reaches out to grab one of Michael’s hands, grinning. “We should go on a date,” he says. “If you want to, I mean. I guess I’m asking, actually. Will you go on a date with me?”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Michael’s eyes go wide. A slight blush starts to creep up his neck, but he’s smiling. “Really?” he asks. “Yes. Of course -- of course I will.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Gerry feels a warm sort of feeling rise in his chest. “Great. We can do anything you want,” he says.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Anything?” Michael asks softly, and Gerry nods. He looks up at Michael and catches his eyes, and then they’re just -- staring at each other. The music playing in the background is drowned out by the rush of blood in Gerry’s ears. Suddenly, softly, Michael cups the back of his head and leans forward to kiss him. It’s a quick kiss, but it makes Gerry’s heart race. He pulls Michael closer, and feels him smile into the kiss as he does. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Do you want to dance?” Gerry asks, once Michael pulls back. The blush on his face deepens, but he nods, eyes wide. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>He pulls Michael out to the center of the dance floor, and looks at his face underneath the lights, and feels happier than he has in a long, long time.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>***</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Sasha watches them dancing from the table, arms flung around each other, and turns to Tim. “If that’s not a job well done, I don’t know what is.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“See? What’d I tell you. Romance superpowers,” Tim says smugly. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Oh, come on. I did all the work on this one, and you know it.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Maybe my superpowers are contagious,” Tim responds, leaning back in his chair. Sasha snorts. “But hey, Sash, I realized -- well, I was talking with Michael, and it made me realize I was being a bit stupid, about the whole Christmas thing. Of course I’ll come with you.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Sasha feels a weight lift off her shoulders that she hadn’t even realized was there. “Yeah?” she says. “Oh, I’m so glad. I was worried you really didn’t want to and didn’t know how to say so. What did Michael say?”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Tim shrugs. “I dunno. He asked about it, first of all, and I was just telling him that usually, this is the point in my relationships where things break off. Meeting the parents always feels like some big test. But he said -- well, he said that was a silly way to think about it. It’s not like there’s anything I can fail, really. And he’s right.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Tim, you should have said. My parents love you already, you know that,” Sasha says softly.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Tim takes a drink from his glass. “Yeah, I do know. It’s just scary sometimes because I’ve never <i>cared</i> so much before. I want them to like me. I want them to approve, you know? Because I love you, really. I just -- didn’t <i>want</i> to fail, even if it was never a possibility.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Sasha feels some sort of deep affection surge up in her chest as she looks across the table at him. “I love you too,” she says. “And I’m excited to spend Christmas with you. We’ll have a great time. Promise.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Tim grins -- a big, sappy grin -- before draining the rest of his drink and placing the empty glass back on the table. He stands up and offers his hand to Sasha as he gestures towards the dance floor. “Think we should join them?”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Sasha looks at Gerry and Michael, who are standing even closer together than before, as they sway to the music. “Nah. Let’s give them a little space. In a few songs, maybe.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Tim nods. On impulse, Sasha reaches across the table to hold his hand, and he takes it. She squeezes it slightly as they watch the two of them dance. The song changes to something slow, and Gerry stands up on his tiptoes to kiss Michael gently, and Sasha looks across the table to Tim and smiles.</i>
  </i>
</p>
  </div></div>
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